


An Angel Of Death- A Reylo Fanfic

by Baggy_Eyes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo is trying to quit smoking, Darkish Reylo, Drinking and Smoking, F/M, First work - Freeform, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, It takes place in England and I am not from England, Modern AU, Oh also, Probably an infinite amount of inaccuracies, Probably very OC, Rey is baby, Reylo - Freeform, Smoking Kills kids, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 13:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baggy_Eyes/pseuds/Baggy_Eyes
Summary: Ben heads outside of a pub for a smoke, only to find a mysterious woman eager to get to know him...





	An Angel Of Death- A Reylo Fanfic

**Author's Note:**

> After almost 5 years of using this site, this is my first fic.  
Ah well, Here goes nothing

The fog was thick and his memory was hazy on that somber London night. Ben felt a little a smooth and rhythmic stupor whenever he moved his head. Though the skies were overcast he felt rather cheery. His stomach was full of ale and his hands fumbled around his coat pockets for a cigarette. He wanted to light it inside but his friend, Hux, simply wouldn’t have it. He could be uptight like that.

“You’re kidding me right? Take that outside!” The pale ginger barked, “The sign clearly says ‘No Smoking’, you twat.”

“C’mon Hux, I’m a foreigner. What do you expect?” Ben tossed his hair back and laughed, already a bit too buzzed to be bothered. But eventually he floundered his way out of the side entrance to the pub. He found himself in a dimly lit alleyway, surrounded by the halos of midnight disarray. His chest felt heavy but his head felt light as he struggled to keep himself upright. He felt torn between sobriety and intemperance, stretched between the open arms of Heaven and clutches of Hell. He was untouchable, trapped in the graying veil of apathy on this Purgatory of an earth. 

He procured his lighter along with his pack from his pockets, both looking rather worn and disheartened. He shook his head and ignored his own rational mind, which begged him to chuck them in the nearest trash can. 

Screw it, he thought, when in London, do as the… 

He couldn’t finish the saying. He didn’t know was the rest of it was. But he sparked his lucky lighter and plucked the butt into his mouth. A couple puffs and he felt another seraphic high. It was so burnt, so fiery, and so divine that he thrived off every second of it. His lungs would hate him for it, but nothing would ever feel as sublime. Nothing that he knew of at least.

He might have been too inebriated to notice a small and lingering figure sauntering a few feet away from him. 

“Those things will kill you. I’m sure you were already aware of that though.” Ben shifted his head to see a soft but sinister young lady. She was short, shout and somber looking. Her chestnut colored hair was pulled all the way behind her head, revealing a precarious set of eyes. 

“Yeah I know” He chuckled, a little too intoxicated to be dishonest. “I’ve been trying to quit lately, but ya know, I just can’t get over the feeling of setting my lungs on fire. It’s simply enchanting.” He spoke his last sentence with a tinge of a British accent. One that he knew was probably inaccurate. The woman scoffed, clearly unimpressed. 

“Your accent is trash, mate,” she remarked, but Ben could’ve sworn he saw a faint smile on her face. She was pretty. At least Ben thought so. She was dressed in all black, looking casual but suspicious. She looked like what he imagined a super spy traveled as undercover. 

“Sorry about that. I’m from out of town. The states actually.” 

“Interesting. A foreigner. I should’ve guessed. Where in the states?” She seemed to perk up. Ben couldn’t comprehend why a pretty girl like her would want to make small talk in a grimey backstreet with a sizable and hefty man as himself. But then again, he couldn’t comprehend much of anything at the moment. 

“Los Angeles. My moms the mayor and she figured that I could use some time aboard because I wasn’t taking my life serious enough. What better place than jolly ol’ Britain?” 

“Mayor? A blue blood. How fascinating.” She grinned. She was studying him up and down a bit too much for his taste, but then again he wasn’t adapted to the courting ritual of the British. He guessed that maybe this this was just the custom. 

“Yeah. I guess. Not much of a tragic backstory but I make due. And you, what’s your story, or your name at least?” 

“Rey. And I suppose I lack a backstory. Or at least one that will intrigue you.”

“Huh. Well Rey, I’m Ben.” Alright. First name basis would be enough for him, he supposed. He tossed his cigarette on the cobblestone and outstretched his hand to the mysterious woman. Surely he could go a while longer without a smoke, if such a lady like her could give him the high that he searched for. Plus, he didn’t want his lack of sobriety to scare her off. 

“Charmed. It’s not every night I meet the son of the mayor of an American city.” She reached out, reciprocating his touch, engulfed by his massive hands. Her dainty and pale palms might have been the coldest things Ben has ever touched. It felt like ice cubes clutching his open hand, while her pointed fingernails gently caressed the beginning of his wrists. He was almost at a loss of words. So Rey withdrew herself and continued her inquiry. 

“So where are your friends? You’re not alone, surely.” She tilted her head ever so slightly, scaring him with her eccentric and up front attitude. 

“I’m here with an old college friend. Both Political Science majors. Armitage Hux. You know him?” Ben doubted that Hux would talk to someone to her, he was too uppity, and mostly cared solely about status. He didn’t even know how he talked him into going to a pub like this. Rey shook her head, confirming Ben’s suspicions. 

“I’m afraid not. London’s quite large after all. It’s not just Sherlock Holmes and Downton Abbey.” 

Ben snickered. “Ha! I get it. I actually did see the museum on Baker Street. Pretty nice huh.”

Rey nodded her head, declining to give him a response to his empty retort, but refusing to take her eyes off of him. 

“So how long have you lived in London?” He asked, kicking himself for assuming she lived in London in the first place. It wasn’t often that someone this pretty gave him this much attention. 

“For ages it feels like. I’ve seen them build this bloody city brick by brick. I remember seeing them first build this pub from my window. It’s a bit of a wretched sight isn’t it”. She passionately declared. Ben unconsciously gulped, intrigued but intimidated by the fire in her baren eyes. 

“So you live close by?” 

“I do. Right on Tudor Street. I take classes at King’s College for Psychology. It’s fun stuff really.” She stepped just ever so closer so the capacious man. Ben found uneasiness in her comfort as he never suspected a woman to be this poised alone in an alley at god knows what hour and with a half drunken, stranger of a man. 

“Sounds fun.” He posed an unnerved smile. “Say you’re awfully talkative for a someone next to a big scary guy like myself. How do you know I’m now a serial killer?” Crap that sounded so creepy. He couldn’t even begin to kick himself enough for his intoxicated behavior. He didn’t mean to scare her off. But she didn’t even whince. 

“You? A serial killer?” She smiled, “what are the odds that there are two serial killers in the same alley way? I can’t imagine they’re very high.”

Ben laughed again, this time with even more discomposure. She didn’t join in. Instead she crept even closer to him, so close that he could feel his face flush even harder than it had been doing that entire night. He almost expected to feel her breath mingle with his warm and tainted exhalation, but he could feel nothing from her. She just peered at him intensely, with her eyes unwavering and unblinking. 

“You’re a very interesting human, Ben. I can tell you’re special.” 

“Uh, thank you Rey. I think you’re cool too.” He tried to pivot away from her haunting glare and yet he found himself pressed against the wall he was leaning on previously. He made eyes at the door but Rey caught his glance before he could go. She reached for his hand once more, this time bringing it to her face and nuzzling it. 

“You shouldn’t go back in there. I don’t think I'd be able to follow you if you didn’t let me. Plus I think we’re having such fun out here.”

“Listen lady. I don’t know what you’re-“

“You’re very polite. Even for a drunken bloke. I can’t even imagine how sweet you’d be sober.” She seemed to turn his wrist towards her. Maybe it was her flattery, her looks, or her mystery, but Ben just couldn’t make himself move. He was absolutely enamored with this terrifying broad. She was unlike any girl he knew back at Stanford, or on the Santa Monica beaches. She was almost mystical. 

“I just want a taste. I get to feed so rarely nowadays. I wouldn’t want to eat you up all at once. You’re too precious for that. And probably too ashy for my taste.”

“Are you like… Jack the Ripper?” Was all that could leave his mouth. He was stunned without words. She intertwined her fingers ever so intimately in his, and pressed them against her cheek. 

“Even better. Because I’m merciful, meticulous, and best of all I’m not human.” She spoke so lovingly. If Ben knew better he would say she was an angel. An angel of death perhaps, but an angel nonetheless. 

She removed her fingertips once more and rotated his wrist to face her. 

“I’m a vampire sweetie. No doubt about it. I don’t suppose you’d mind giving me a taste of dinner hm?” Her eyes reflected in a haunting and fish eyes gleam. 

She didn’t look like a vampire. Vampires were supposed to be old bald men in capes who tell you “I vant to suck your blood!” In broken german accents. Ben had never heard of something this magical being this gentle looking and humane. 

“I won’t hurt you. I promise. Just don’t run and I won’t have to do anything irrational. Please” She rocked forward on her feet, rising ever so slightly to attempt to meet his height. She was pleading with him. Think about that. A vampire imploring a human for blood. What a screwed up idea. 

Maybe it was the drink, or the pretty eyes she had. But he nodded his head. And she began at it. His eyes opened compellingly as he saw how her fangs appeared. She sunk into his forearm, earnestly sucking into his veins. She looked so fervent and diligent at her task at hand, it was almost enamoring. She suctioned his arm until he felt it bruising. It was a sensation he was oddly familiar to. It felt like getting his blood drawn twice a year back in Los Angeles. From a young age he would always complain to his mother that the experience was pointless and painful. It wasn’t such a sting but it was-

“Ow! Jeez!” he yelped, trying to keep himself from completely hollering. 

“Quiet please. I’m almost done.” Rey reassured him, finally withdrawing from his now bruised wrist. She still bore some of his bloody juices on her teeth and lips. But Ben couldn’t say anything. She somehow looked so precious in her bewildered state. Perhaps this was like alcohol to her. He began to understand the ecstasy she must’ve been searching for. 

“Thank you Ben. You taste divine, even if I think you’d be better if you laid off the smoking. You’re definitely special.”

She finally seemed to fully break off eye contact from him completely. Reaching into her trouser pocket and placing a piece of paper onto his shaky hand. 

“My phone and address.” She smiled, seemingly confident that he would desire her location. 

“Ah. Um. Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Now now, I’m sure your friends are wondering why you’ve been gone so long. Surely you ought to get back to them.” She gestured towards the door. He glanced backwards, realizing she was right. He had been gone long enough. But he was talking to Rey. They’d understand. 

The moment he turned his head back she was gone, like seraph sent back to heaven, or a demon called back to hell. He wasn’t quite sure what she was. An acquaintance or a terrifying monster. Either way he unfolded the piece of paper, finding her name, number, address, and a little message for him: 

“Give me a call. You never know what could happen.” 

He took out the cigarette packet from his coat pocket and replaced it with the letter instead. She sure was something else. Never had he expected his trip abroad would go like this. 

His gave one last look to the pack and threw them in the bins nearby before heading inside to sober up. Surely this couldn’t have been a blacked out fevered dream. He still have the little wounds on his wrist.

  
  



End file.
